


The Quiet Room

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Homeward Bound [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A happy moment before everything falls apart, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Detective Stiles, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Porn, Porn With Plot, Sciles, Scott and Stiles are adorable, Sex, Silly Boys, Slavery, Teen Wolf AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1505318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles try to reconcile after over a decade apart. Sadness, fluff, junk food and sex ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quiet Room

The walls were starting to get to him. A pale pastel yellow meant to bring light and keep the space airy, all it did was reinforce how fake this all was. A place that was for peace and healing when all Scott could see was a prison. He refused to speak, pacing the length of the room from one side to the other, over and over like an animal in a cage. At least he wasn’t tied down, it was a minor improvement over the last room. 

Since Stiles had…since he’d been subdued, Scott had been sullen and uncooperative, taking every opportunity to fight. He’d lost his best chance at escape, but he couldn’t stop trying to find a way. The security here must be more relaxed than Peter’s, they were supposedly trying to help him. Eventually someone would make a mistake and he’d find a way to use it to his advantage. Being in this room didn’t help, though that was his own fault. He’d picked a fight with the orderlies, roaring loud enough that he triggered the shift in the patients around him and he’d been moved into isolation for everyone’s protection. The room was even lined with mountain ash somewhere beneath the cheery paint, a way to reduce aggression and dampen his abilities. The whole thing just made Scott feel like he was swimming underwater, his senses muted uncomfortably.

The line of mountain ash by the door was impenetrable, at least by him. He’d beaten uselessly against the barrier for hours before giving up to nurse his shaking hands. Human orderlies were able to cross the line with no issue, Scott still had no idea how, and Doctor Tate would perch in the chair by the door safely beyond the border for their sessions. She was patient, he’d give her that. The first time she had told him to  _sit_  for a session, his knees hit the ground so fast he hadn’t realized he’d moved, head back and throat exposed. The action triggered by years of conditioning and surprising them both. He had been humiliated though she’d never mentioned it again and Scott still refused to speak a word. After a while, she left too.

Scott watched the light slant through the small window, spilling in narrow sunbeams through the room that swept across the floor as the hours ticked by. In some ways, this was worse than being with Peter. At least then his every waking thought had been survival. There wasn’t time to dwell on mistakes or shame and sometimes…sometimes it wasn’t always so bad. Now there was nothing but silence and his own regrets.

___

After they’d relocated Scott to a more secure room, Stiles had left the facility, expecting to return in six hours, with a copy of his medical records and as many clothes as he could fit in his backpack. The companion program was generally reserved for cases who’d progressed further, and who had people waiting for them on the outside. It allowed civilians to schedule extended visiting hours and the right to participate in certain therapy sessions. That was over three days ago. It was difficult to keep appointments when you were busy throwing your career away.

He had never considered his sergeant an irrational man. Stiles had more difficulty believing that he was the one at fault. 

He was berated for failing to identify a possible conflict of interest that could have jeopardized their assignment, and his reunion with Scott was slapped in his face as Exhibit A. There were still loose threads he needed to clear.

Returning to the case in the cold light of day tore open wounds that hadn’t begun to heal. He’d sat in a windowless room with blood on the floor and wondered how long it had been since Scott had left the gouges in the wall. There was a mystery there. There was a mystery in every room of Peter Hale’s prison, and among the most pressing was why hadn’t Stiles shot his kneecaps off when he’d had the chance?

There was really only one mystery that he wanted to solve, and when he told Allison he was no good for this job, she’d laughed in his face. It had been unfairly kind.

Over the phone, there was limited information anyone was willing to share about Scott, and Stiles didn’t know what to expect. All the brochures on companionship featured smiling families and slogans that promised the end of a war. When the orderly opened the door, Stiles pushed through faster than his feet could carry him, and his boundaries were drawn clear on the floor. 

Regular companions would have bed space provided in the same room as their patient. Stiles just needed Scott to look at him. “Can I come in?”

___

He hadn’t heard the footsteps and the sound of the door opening caught him off guard. Scott backed away warily, tension running through every line of his body. Stiles, no, the _officer_ had come back? He hadn’t been sure if the human would ever want to see him again after that botched escape, the look in those amber eyes had been sure and there hadn’t been any hesitation with the gun. Staring down the barrel of the taser gun, Scott realized he’d put his trust in a ghost that didn’t exist anymore. He’d been such a fool to think…to hope…he’d been clinging on to a memory of a boy from his past that had grown and changed into a man he didn’t know.  Neither one of them were the same and it would be a mistake to look for his friend in a stranger. Better to live with the memories, at least those wouldn’t hurt.

Scott pressed his back against the wall as far from the door as he could, sliding down to the floor and finally gave a shallow nod. If Stil-…if the officer was determined to see him for some reason, there wasn’t much he could do. A small part of Scott was glad to see him again, but the hope hurt worse than anything.  Hope made you vulnerable. He had to stop thinking of the man as his friend, it wasn’t the same. Everything was broken and wrong, trying would just taint the memories and ruin the last good thing he had.

And yet he couldn’t stop himself from watching the other man closely, searching his face for signs of anger or tell-tale bruises around his neck. Logic just never really seemed to apply when Stiles Stilinski was involved, no matter how Scott tried to wall off the emotions and distance himself. It was all a futile effort, he was a monster now and that was a reality he’d learned to accept. There wasn’t any use trying to change things now. The wolf rested his arms across his knees, dropping his eyes and managing to keep his face blank. “Are you okay?” His first words in three days and he mentally kicked himself, but he had to know.

___

His dad told him he had a way of dressing like a hobo on his days off. That… Probably wasn’t politically correct, but it also wasn’t far from the truth. Baggy clothes that were mostly khaki or plaid, big enough that Stiles ended swimming in fabric, some things with more grease stains than others - he liked it. With the backpack slung across his shoulders, he could be just another college kid. It was comfortable. It was highly conducive to a night in with a gallon of milk and a pizza. It helped hide the bumps and bruises of a job well done.

The marks that crossed his arm had been the most visible. Stiles had smelled like eucalyptus for the past few days, because that was what the best creams were made of.

He wondered what Scott saw as he tried not to think about what he didn’t.

"I should be asking you that," he rasped, licking his lips for what felt like the tenth time since he’d stepped into the room. If Scott wanted to attack, the alarm on his wrist would be useless, much like that thin line of mountain ash. There was a fine line between clinical understanding and fear. His pride forced him to walk it with grace.

It was impossible to ignore the lack of warmth in that greeting. “I wanted to come back as fast as I could. There was…” A work excuse. Truth, maybe, but it sounded like something one of their fathers would say. He loved his dad, but he knew those excuses. “A thing. I’m here now. I’m staying.”

___

Scott shrugged his answer, falling back into the comfortable silence before the officer’s declaration startled him. He leaned forward sharply, chest pressed against his knees and shaking his head furiously. “No. No, you can’t stay here. _Why_ would you stay here? Aren’t you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” The last question was said more bitterly than he would have liked and he apologized immediately, leaning back against the wall and hitting his head with a thunk.

Whatever plan St-…the officer had, it was a waste of time, staying here would just make it all so much worse. How was he supposed to protect himself and find that distance when the human came in, disheveled and looking exactly like he did when they were teens. Scott wanted to fist his hands in the other man’s shirt, pull him close and drown. It was unfair, he’d come walking straight out his dream and was so close that even with his diminished hearing, Scott could practically feel the rapid fluttering of the officer’s heart.

“I know you’re trying to help me, but you can’t. Staying here isn’t going to bring back that kid you used to know, he’s been dead for years. I can’t be him anymore and nothing you, any of you, try to do is going to change that.” The wolf said quietly, getting it out of the way. Chase him off now, save them both the pain of being disappointed. Any longer like this and his resolve would crumble. “I’m sorry for everything, so just go. I don’t want your help, leave me alone.”

___

"Funny, the score so far’s Stiles - two, Scott - goose egg." He countered, voice too light, and that was the taste of his foot lodged firmly in his mouth. He’d taken a step forward without realizing it, his senses skipping to a new beat, because this was wrong, so wrong. They couldn’t have conversations outside of each other’s personal space. They didn’t know how to talk without someone’s elbow and enough space to breathe between them. 

"I’m unarmed." He added quickly, but it was a risk he was willing to take. Scott hadn’t hurt him, not in any way that would have lasted. Two days ago, Stiles closed off a basement that told the story of how well Scott could kill. 

He paused, doubt visible on his features, but he slid his backpack across the floor, close enough that Scott could kick it if he wanted to. “There’s - you should check… I know we can’t go back to being kids.”

That was a lie. His heart betrayed him a dozen times over. The sour skittles and Twix bars and tubes of Pringles between clean underwear and fresh t-shirts meant nothing. He could rationalize up and down the block why and how they would never be the same. But there was a part of him that had sewn an intricate fantasy of lies and hope that whispered one day, he’d find Scott, whole and unhurt and as bright as the day he’d left, golden-eyed because Stiles loved being right, and they’d have their happy ending. That was the only one they deserved.

"But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna get you out of here. Not just - not that _fuck up_ from last time, but out of here for good, with a - a house and a job and a white picket fence even if I have to steal it out of someone else’s lawn… You’ve been gone too long if you really think I’m gonna leave you, Scott.”

___

“I trust you.” Even now, if the officer said he didn’t bring weapons, Scott believed him automatically, though it was a stupid risk. He didn’t need to check when the racing pulse told the whole story, the human never really was good at lying anyways. Or hadn’t been. Maybe he’d learned over the years, another thing he wouldn’t recognize.

Scott pushed himself to his feet, stalking across the room and grabbed the officer by the front of his shirt. “A picket fence? Really?” He growled, shoving the human roughly against the wall and pinning him, teeth bared in agitation. There were cameras, they had to be watching but if he wanted to hurt this man, Scott knew no one would get there in time. “I’m not human, I haven’t been in a long time and there’s no way you’re going to fix that. You’re dreaming, give up on this.”

The wolf yanked his captive’s head back by his hair, exposing his throat and leaned in close to breathe against the skin. “You have no idea the kinds of things I’ve done, what I _had_ to do. There’s no coming back from that. I could kill you right now and there’s no one to stop me, I’ve done it before. You think I’ll be able to pass as normal after all of that? You don’t know me, Stiles. I’m not who you want me to be.”

He loosened his grip, tucking his face into the curve of Stiles’s neck and his resolve wavered. “Please don’t let me hurt you. Seeing you is the only good thing that’s happened to me in as long as I can remember and I don’t want to ruin you.” This was what he wanted, the line of his body pressed hard against the human, the scent of him overwhelming Scott’s senses. His hands didn’t know where to settle, anxious and desperate just to touch. “I missed you.” The wolf’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry for so many things, I never wanted to hurt you. I wish I could be him for you. Stiles…I should make you leave. Why can’t I just make you leave?”

___

"Shut up, loser." There was a tremor in his voice that Stiles didn’t have the resolve to iron out. His heart was doing gymnastics in his rib cage, and the moment it stopped, he was sure he was going to die. He was painfully aware of where his gun would have rested, regardless of how infrequently he’d considered it an option. It was a safety blanket for someone more naive than he wanted to be, a reminder that the world may have had terrible, powerful things but they could still be shot in the head.

Scott was one of those things now. The moment his grip slackened, Stiles was tugging him closer, blunt human nails leaving crescent moons in his skin. The patient uniform crinkled beneath his grip, until they could go no closer. 

Scott could kill him, probably faster than he could blink. Worse, Scott could make him live through it. 

His back still throbbed with discomfort. He hadn’t been able to look at Scott until he’d been forced, terrified of what he’d see, and now, he worried that he could imagine something worse to keep him company at nights. Scott was trembling, so faint Stiles wondered if he noticed. He didn’t think he’d have the strength, but he held on tighter.

"I want you to find more good things," he hissed. "You don’t have to be human for that. You don’t - you don’t deserve this. Human has nothing to do with it. You don’t deserve any of this shit. You think you can make me do anything, McCall? Shut up. Just. Just shut up." 

He scratched down Scott’s shoulder blades, seemed to find his grip and started drawing circles down the werewolf’s back. He wanted to steal the tension out of his muscles. He needed Scott to _stop_. Their cheeks brushed together as Stiles pulled away, only far enough that he could look Scott in the eye. He dragged his palm up, cupping his nape and urging Scott to stay with him.

"I’m not going anywhere."

___

“You’re so damn stubborn. Fuck you, Stiles, why can’t you just listen?” The words were quiet but without venom as Scott surrendered beneath his hands. He couldn’t keep himself from shuddering slightly at the touch, muscles easing without his permission. He could never deny how much he craved the physical, it might be some sort of wolf thing that no one had ever explained. There wasn’t much time to learn anything except how to hide it while on the run.

A small lopsided smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he slid his hands down to finally rest on Stiles’s hips. “You’re never afraid of the things that should terrify you, you never have been. It’s going to get you killed one of these days. Be more careful, I need you to be okay.”

All of his reasonable arguments didn’t seem to matter anymore, he wasn’t letting go. He didn’t even think he could. They had been almost brothers, two halves of one whole for his entire childhood. It didn’t matter how far from human he’d drifted, Stiles anchored him back to himself. “Well, I’m not going anywhere either, though that’s not really by choice.” He tried to joke, nuzzling against the officer’s cheek.

He sighed as the hands soothed the anxiety from his back, dropping his head to Stiles’s shoulder. If there was anything left of that boy he used to be, Scott was determined to find it for him. Anything to stop his friend from carrying all that pain and worry. “I thought about you all the time. I knew you were safe somewhere and just remembering everything, it got me through. You were the last thing I had to hold on to, Stiles, they were never able to take that away from me. I didn’t have a home anymore, I lost my mom to hunters in New Mexico when I was 19, I did things, terrible things, but I always knew you were okay. I never thought I’d see you again, how did you ever find me?”

Scott pulled back reluctantly, keeping as much contact between them as he could. “If this is what you want, then I’ll try.”

___

"Melissa-" He couldn’t stop the way his features crumbled, sorrow written as plain as day, for a brave woman with dogged determination. He remembered seeing her in the hospitals when things had gotten bad for his mom. He remembered falling asleep in break rooms he wasn’t supposed to be in, with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders. He remembered wishing that she and his dad would start dating so he and Scott could really be brothers. 

She was gone before he could ever look for her. Scott had been living a nightmare for years, and Stiles never wanted to let anything touch him again.

"I want to keep you." Stiles urged, closing his eyes so he could curl into Scott again. He wanted to build a home for Scott - with Scott, somewhere safe he could stay, somewhere he could rest. He didn’t want to know how the world could tear apart someone so genuinely good, someone warm and caring and wonderful. "I couldn’t stop looking. You’re not someone people forget easy… And you put up with me. That’s cool, too."

He wouldn’t let go of the werewolf, his arms wrapped tight around Scott’s waist as he tried to walk him back to his bed, nearly tripping over his feet on their way over. They still fell over heavily, and Stiles scrambled into place on top of Scott, pinning him to the bed with an overenthusiastic hug. It shouldn’t have been this easy to fit together after all these years. Stiles was just thankful that it was.

"They got me in the room next door." The room he’d spent all of 2.5 seconds in, before demanding how to find Scott. "Or I can just stay here?"

___

“It’s okay. She was really brave. She did everything she could for us, I was always so proud of her.” He hadn’t thought about his mother in a long time, the guilt too raw. She’d died because of what he was and he’d never stop blaming himself for it. However he was marked to become this thing, it was a curse.

“You’ve got me, Stiles. You’ve always got me.” Promises echoed from a lifetime ago. “Why wouldn’t anyone put up with you? You’re amazing, don’t tell me you don’t see it. Everyone should be telling you that all the time.” Scott was still so defensive of anyone who couldn’t appreciate his friend, always rushing to build him up and making sure he believed in himself. It was an instinct as deep as anything from his beast and just as easy a role to slip into.

He let himself be half pushed, half led backwards, stumbling and laughing as he hit the bed. His hands found their way up into that messy hair, running his fingers through it like he’d wanted to for so long. It was nice, much different than that buzzcut from childhood. Scott couldn’t get enough, almost frantic to stay as close as possible, bodies slotting together like they were made for this.

“Stay with me, stay here. Please stay.” A wall between them would be too much, Scott couldn’t let go for that long. He couldn’t seem to let go at all. He hadn’t meant to kiss Stiles, all those feelings stemmed from a fifteen year old’s unspoken crush grown out of control over the years by a desperate, lonely man. There were cameras watching, risks that he could cross that line and be rejected, but he couldn’t think about anything but feel of Stiles’s lips, the way they parted so Scott could taste him. His hands slid beneath the baggy shirt, reveling in the play of muscles beneath gentle fingertips.

___

Stiles laughed, and it felt like betrayal. They’d barely spoken about Melissa, but Scott was being so  _Scott_ , and it was good. It was great. It was like something he could have pulled out of age-old memories, like the time he tried to give up lacrosse by kicking his stick across the yard only to stub his toe, and Scott fell into sermon about his merits. Like the time Lydia Martin had stepped on his heart, and Scott had shown him that it didn’t hurt, not really, not when he had someone to hold him together. He’d loved him for a long time.

Oh

Stiles inhaled sharply, helpless to the way his mouth fell open, pink tongue slipping out to tease the warm swell of Scott’s lips. They were close, so close. He could feel Scott’s heart beating against his chest. His fingers tangled in dark hair, and curled around the strong line of his bicep. He was tired of fighting. They both were. 

He didn’t know what he was doing. He knew that this could end horribly. He knew that there were so many ways this could be a mistake.

"You don’t owe me anything, Scotty…" He whispered, eyes half-lidded, and he could feel warm breath on his lips. Stiles pressed forward, coaxing the werewolf into another kiss, soft and sweet and careful, so careful. Scott had been running for so long, and Stiles might never see all his scars. He wanted to hold him now. He wanted to keep him.

He was trembling when he pulled away, turning his face into Scott’s pillow or else he’d kiss him again. Stiles didn’t know how he managed to stop. He could feel everywhere they touched, bright hot sparks spilling over his nerves. 

___

“I owe you everything.” _Everything_. His survival, his sanity, the reason he kept himself breathing every day when all he wanted was for it to end. Scott wanted to pull him down, kiss him breathless and leave him gasping but he went slowly, never taking more than was given to him. “The only thing I have is me, but I’m yours, Stiles. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

How could he ever put this into words? The skills were lost over the years, there was no way to express this feeling than to trace his fingers across pale skin, almost hesitant in their wonder. He felt exposed, all of his walls stripped away to leave him bare but he wasn’t afraid. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually felt safe, the feeling foreign. Scott protested quietly when the other man pulled away, twisting to tangle their limbs together.

“Is it okay?” He asked, always concerned that he was respecting boundaries and not pushing too hard. “I didn’t mean to-” The young man ducked his head, smiling in to Stiles’s sleeve. “I mean, I guess I meant to but not quite like that. I didn’t know if you…” God, he felt like an awkward teenager again. How could he have gone through so much and this was enough to leave him tongue tied and nervous? There wasn’t any reason for it, they were Scott and Stiles. Somehow, underneath all the scars, that still meant something.

Scott relaxed into the bed, content to stay like this forever if he could. The monster inside his veins was quiet for now and tamed so easily. “I promise, I won’t leave again. I won’t run without you and I won’t hurt you.” It was a sincere promise, he was bound here tighter than any chains Eichen House could use. Now that he’d found Stiles again, he would never let go

___

"Scott…" This was wrong. This was a mistake. Stiles had been waiting over a decade for words that would have only made sense in the past. In a different time, in a different place, he knew Scott. He trusted him more than he trusted himself, and those words would have made everything in his world fall into place. 

This was the sort of thing that would fit a horror movie’s script. He was a cop’s son. He was a cop. This wasn’t right, and Scott couldn’t make those promises, not after three days of silence and trapped in a world that saw everything. Not after the life he’d been forced to suffer through and everything that he’d lost.

Stiles still pulled him in and kissed him until his lips bruised red. 

He could feel Scott’s lashes dancing across his cheek and the way his body hitched with each ragged gasp. Stiles wanted to steal every sigh and whimper, and hide them away to revisit until the end of all things.

 _You can’t say that. You don’t know. You don’t owe me_ ** _anything_**. God, he wanted to make Scott smile.

"Only… Only what you want. You’re mine as long as you want to be. Goddammit Scott, I missed you." He rasped, cradling Scott’s face in his hands so he could kiss him again and again and again. He kissed his forehead, the slope of his nose, the soft skin beneath his eyes and across his jaw. "Missed you…"

He had to be careful. Stiles was never good at being careful, but this time, he had every reason to be. With Scott, he could do anything. For Scott, he’d move worlds. 

___

He groaned into Stiles’s mouth, a hungry kind of desperation fueled by years of incessant dreaming. There was no way Scott would ever have believed this was even possible, the feel of the other man against him, the bruising mouth that sent his thoughts fracturing in a million directions at once. He had nothing to lose, there wasn’t any reason to be afraid now.

Scott rolled, pinning the human back against the pillows and pressing his mouth against Stiles’s neck. He licked the racing pulse, muscles shifting as he carefully supported his weight. “I want _you_.” Those words had never been more true. This was a choice, however heady and ill-advised, it was his own. There wasn’t any coercion or chemicals behind it, he was clear headed except for the scent of him that was more powerful than any mix of wolfsbane. “I’ve always wanted you, Stiles. I was too young and too stupid to know how to say it back then. We were just kids, I didn’t even understand how I felt until it was all too late. I thought I lost you.”

Was there any explanation for how Stiles could just fit back into the ragged hole he’d left like no time had passed at all? Could anything about them be explained? They were their parents’ despair, unrepentant troublemakers with all the very best intentions. Inseparable as soon as they had met, balancing each other to keep each other whole.

 _Slow, go slow._ Scott chided himself. This wasn’t Peter, the desire to please was all his own instead of some scripted part to play. How did normal people do this? People were watching, he had no doubt about that, but he’d put on shows before and the thought didn’t bother him. Let them watch, all he cared about was easing that worried tension in Stiles’s shoulders.  

___

Then Scott was everywhere, saying words that were sweeter than honey but nowhere near as sweet as his kisses. A strangled groan escaped him, and Stiles arched off the mattress, baring his neck for more, more, always more. He scratched clumsily at Scott’s back, trying to pull him closer when it already felt like they were touching at every point. Scott was everything that mattered.

"You have me, man… You’ve always had me. Nothin’s gonna change that." His words slurred, sticking to the tip of his tongue where he could still taste Scott. His body was pulsing with frantic energy and no outlet in sight. He couldn’t stop pawing at his best friend, his fingers sliding beneath the hem of his shirt, stroking along the thin line of skin until Stiles could find more. His palm lay flat on his partner’s back, sliding lower until he could squeeze the curve of his butt.

"You also got a nice butt, dude," He smirked, pulling back so he could find Scott’s lips again. He dragged out a kiss, long and lingering, until it felt like he was stealing the air straight out of Scott’s lungs. It would have been so easy to go after what he wanted now, what they both obviously wanted. That would be more reckless than he could afford now, more than he ever wanted to risk with Scott.

"Hey…" He guided, running a hand through Scott’s hair, urging him to slow down, to relax. He worried his lip between his teeth, suckling like he had all the time in the world. "What’s this I hear about you not eating hospital food?"

It was the least sexy thing he could think about on short notice. Sue him.

___

The gesture of trust thrilled him on some primal level he couldn’t explain, kissing and sucking the delicate skin of Stiles’s neck down to the hollow of his throat. Scott was already breathing hard, eyes blown dark with need and oh so careful not to hurt him. It might have just been an unconscious gesture, but it set the wolf in him wild.

It was difficult to concentrate on the words when all of his attention was distracted by those long restless fingers and the way they played along his nerves. Werewolves ran hotter than humans, but Scott felt like he had a fever, flushed and panting, hypersensitive to every touch. He needed to get out of these uncomfortable hospital issued clothes, to feel Stiles against bare skin.  

Scott growled playfully as he was grabbed, opening his mouth to make some snarky remark back but his retort was stolen by sweet thieving lips. He kissed the human lazily, a testament to control when the rest of him was demanding more with an almost overwhelming urgency. His hips rocked forward, deepening the kiss until his chest burned and he had to come up for air.

The hand in his hair practically undid him, eyes sliding half-closed and nuzzling against Stiles’s arm. It took a full minute for the question to make any sense at all, tipping his head to the side and furrowing his brows as his hazy brain tried to understand.

“Hospital food?” He huffed a laugh, dropping his head against the human’s chest and trying to catch his breath. “Dude, have you tried it? I haven’t been in a hospital in a long time, but the food hasn’t gotten any better. Just wait until they try to get you to eat it, you’ll have to smuggle in something edible.”

___

Stiles wasn’t sure how long he lingered there, with a hand in Scott’s hair, threading soft strands between his fingers as he reminded himself how to breathe. Everything smelled like Scott and felt so warm, he’d forget all over again. It was slow work. 

"Hm…?" His fingers dragged down the curve of Scott’s jaw, stretching up to trace his smile before returning to their spot in his hair. Hands down, he was the best blanket ever. Stiles’ palm spread out across Scott’s hip, trying not to lose himself in the sharp memory of how good he felt when they were bearing down on him. "Yeah, s’why I brought Skittles… Jerky. Spinach. Finstock."

His voice tapered off, this time in awe. Automatic boner killer was still in place. Considering the negative space between him and Scott, that was saying something. His fingers brushed against the shell of his partner’s ear. Stiles kissed him on the forehead under a huff of laughter.

"Dude, it’s good for you. Doc Tate says you’re scrawny for a werewolf." He admonished lightly, pressing his cheek into Scott’s crown. He waited a beat, and nudged Scott’s legs apart with his knee. "I didn’t really bring Finstock."

___

Hands in his hair had always been a weakness, even before the onset of his lycanthropy that somehow made the feeling that much more intense. It was too much like petting a dog behind the ear for him ever to admit it, thank god his leg didn’t twitch. He wouldn’t ever be able to live that down. It had been a long time since feeling good hadn’t come with a price attached, freely given and most importantly, asked for. Scott knew he might never be able to purge the feel of Peter completely from his bones, some broken hateful part of him might not even want to, but this was a good start.

“You brought me junk food?!” Scott leaned back, beaming. “Oh my god, I _love_ you, Stiles. It’s been forever since I’ve had anything real and..Finstock. Coach?” The wolf stared down, mouth open and deadpanned as he dredged up half-forgotten memories of yelling through a megaphone and suicide runs until his asthma kicked in and he couldn’t breathe. “Dude, that’s playing dirty!”

It was a bad angle for a shove, so Scott settled on a well-aimed poke to Stiles’s ribs. “I am not scrawny, I’m almost the same size as you are. Sort of. And isn’t she a psychiatrist? What does she know about people being scrawny or not. You need to stop talking about Coach, that man haunts my dr-ah!” His body bowed at the feeling of Stiles’s knee between his leg, argument lost completely as he braced his hands on either side of the human. 

___

Stiles stared, first a little, then a lot. He rolled Scott over, trapped him against the mattress and kissed him until his body shuddered hard beneath his fingers. He pressed his smile against Scott’s lips, mouthing over soft petals, before tangling his legs with his partner’s, making sure the werewolf had nowhere to go. Stiles wanted to make sure he didn’t want to go anywhere else, too.

"Love you," he murmured, low enough to ignore. That belonged in a different time, to different lives. He’d fallen in love with a brave boy with floppy bangs before he knew what love was, and now that he had him back… Stiles closed his eyes. Scott would never be the same. That didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. Right now, he was happy. 

"Don’t even try, dude. You’re way too short to be me.  _And_ scrawny.” Stiles taunted huskily, returning the favor with a quick jab to Scott’s side. He wanted Scott tucked back into his arms. He wanted Scott tucked in his everywhere.

"Got Sour Cream’n’Onion Pringles, still your fave?" He asked the top of Scott’s head, drawing lines up the curve of Scott’s spine until he could happily smother him into bed. He promised he would try to get Scott into an evening therapy session.

___

Scott had never been trapped so willingly, kisses leaving him dizzy and trembling. He gripped Stiles’s hips harder than he meant to, holding them still as he arched his own body upwards. The urgency was making him careless with his strength and he gasped at the friction that just wasn’t enough. He wanted more, needed everything, fumbling and graceless and laughing.

He bumped Stiles’s nose with his own, returning each kiss and growling in satisfaction. “I’ve always loved you. Always, always. T-told my mom I was going to marry you when I was s-seven.” She had laughed, not unkindly, at the two inseparable terrors.

He squrimed away from the poke, snapping his teeth without any real threat. “I am not, neither one of you knows anything. It’s all muscle, don’t act like I couldn’t benchpress you, dude. D-don’t make me prove it, you know I’d win.” The wolf grinned, still ready to answer any challenge.

The young man nodded sharply. “God, yes.” He breathed, unclear if the words were for his favorite snack or the hands running down his spine. Scott’s head was flung back against the pillows, flat on his back with his own throat exposed. Peter had always liked him to be vocal and there was no changing the habit now. He gave small needy moans, inarticulate pleading for more. For Stiles.

___

"Proof, dude, or it didn’t happen," Stiles teased, but his tone was distant, so obviously distracted. His eyes had gone wider than quarters, trying to take in the way Scott writhed and moaned beneath his hands. He ran his palms up Scott’s chest, tracing across toned pecs to settle on his slender waist. He wanted. Oh God, he wanted. 

He licked the long column of skin across Scott’s throat, like he could taste burnt caramel. His teeth grazed the curve of his Adam’s apple, before his tongue laved the staccato beat of his pulse. He wanted to coax out every sound Scott had to offer. He wanted Scott to feel so good he screamed with it.

Scott looked like an angel, a filthy angel. Keening and eager for his hands and mouth, like he didn’t care who heard, who saw or who knew, or maybe it was like he was putting on a show. 

Stiles could feel the moment blood drained from his face, his grip still heavy on Scott’s skin. Somewhere along the line he’d pushed up his shirt until it bunched across Scott’s chest, his nipples flirting just beneath the hem. He was wonderful, but it felt like Stiles’ heart was breaking.

"Is this your first time?" He asked, tone carefully kind, and he thought he knew the answer. He’d seen what darkness this world could hold, but with Scott, it was just so easy to ignore. Scott had always been his sun, his light, his hope. Scott was going to cure cancer and do surgeries on babies one day, or at least, that was what they expected all those years ago. Stiles kissed him on the mouth, like it would make the answer come easier.

Woah, he wanted to laugh. Yeah, wow, waiting. Good idea. Great fucking way to mess that up, Stilinski.

___

Scott’s entire body trembled, breath coming in shuddering gasps as his hands carded through Stiles’s hair. He liked the hair, he liked it a lot. Loved the broad sweep of his shoulders and the way the muscles of his arms tensed. Loved the wicked mouth that teased maddeningly across his skin and left him begging. There were still flashes of that pale and skinny boy beneath the strength and skill of the man and Scott felt a swell of pride. He had known that there was something amazing in his hyperactive, awkward friend from the moment they’d met. He’d seen the strength inside, the fearlessness and drive. He’d loved Stiles first, all those years ago before his friend had settled so remarkably into the man Scott had always known he’d be. Now everyone could see what he’d always known, but Scott had loved him first.

He writhed beneath the human, thoroughly debauched and unashamed. Even in a room lined with mountain ash, his eyes lit with a feral intensity, flickering sporadically between warm brown and glowing red. Scott was responsive to each touch, pliant and yielding under Stiles’s hands. The wolf pleaded, voice wrecked and low, murmuring his friend’s name over and over again between stuttering gasps.

“W-what?” That was most certainly not a question Scott expected and it threw him, staring wide eyed upwards and panting for air. Stiles didn’t know? He’d just assumed everyone knew, like they could just look at him and read the list of sins at once glance. If he couldn’t tell, Scott didn’t want to destroy that illusion. Let him never find out the details of his survival. He gave a minute shake of his head before managing a hoarse “No,” returning the kiss with confusion but no less enthusiasm than before. First time…he was so far from his first time. “I-is it _yours_?”

___

 _Was it Hale?_ He didn’t ask, when his lips were pressing hard and insistent against Scott’s slick wet mouth, biting and tugging on pink lips. He licked them for Scott, soothed the spill of blood even as he coaxed his partner’s tongue into his mouth, sucking it with wanton greed.

 _What did he make you do?_ He wondered as his fingers wandered, tugging Scott’s shirt off and throwing it somewhere else. Where didn’t matter, nothing did, nothing that wasn’t them and skin and heat. _Did he hurt you?_

He scratched down smooth skin, mapping the panes of the werewolf’s broad chest, leaving marks that healed almost instantly. His hips canted insistently against Scott, his cock thick and straining against his pants. He pulled back just long enough to breathe, gaze narrowing as he watched Scott’s eyes flash red, already so dark with lust. Beautiful, wonderful Scott, who looked so grateful and felt like a prize.

_Am I like him?_

_Will I hurt you?_

"You’re the only one that mattered." Stiles confessed, voice a ragged drawl, and that should have been more significant. He thought about dates that went nowhere, and leads he didn’t follow, clumsy touches in the back of cars and in dorm rooms that never felt like home. Then there was Scott.

He could write volumes about Scott. 

"I want to suck you," he whispered, catching Scott’s ear lobe between his teeth and tugging sharply. He wanted to taste every inch of Scott, and it was anger that tugged at his senses, but also a fierce sense of protectiveness and determination. Scott called his name, and Stiles couldn’t have him want anyone else. "Do you like that? Can I have you?" 

___

Scott returned each eager kiss, head spinning from the taste of him. The bright flash of copper, the brief pain, moaning for more as he teased the other man with his tongue. He should have guessed Stiles would be so good at this, the oral fixation hadn’t gone unnoticed to a desperately hormonal fifteen year old. Class together had been unbearable when Stiles had taken to chewing on his pens. He sighed in satisfaction, finally free of the itchy hospital issued clothing and even the smallest barriers between them. His skin radiated heat, dark and unblemished, each wound healing away back into unmarred brown. Dark hair broke the expanse of hard muscle, low on his belly and trailing lower.

His hips bucked, trying to match the rhythm, his own cock hard and aching for attention. His entire body arched under Stiles’s nails with a cry, thoughts short circuiting as his own hands twisted in the bed sheets. He wanted to run his hands up Stiles’s back, to strip off his clothes and leave them bare together but Scott wasn’t sure if his fingertips were clawed and dangerous. It was hard to tell, Scott hadn’t lost control like this in ages but the feel of him rutting against his hip was enough to make him slip.

It had never been like this. Not the awkward terrified fumbling with strange girls he’d met along the way while on the run. Not the manipulative needs of Peter. Not the desperate lonely grasping with Isaac when the two survivors were alone. Scott carefully tangled his fingers through Stiles’s hair, mindful of the claws and smiled, feeling pride for the first time in years. This beautiful human, his rock, his best friend that had never given up hope wanted _him_.

He gave a gasping snarl at the teeth tugging at his ear, sharp flickers of pain that felt so good. “A-are you seriously asking me that question?” Scott panted, struggling to keep his ability to speak. “Yes, yes, _please_. You can have everything, just don’t stop!”

___

Stiles pulled back just far enough for him to cradle Scott’s face between his palms and kiss him. Closed-mouth and sweet, it was chaste compared to everything they’d done, but he meant it no less. He was panting for breathe when he pulled away, trying to make his world stop spinning as he ran his fingers through Scott’s hair. Scott looked every sort of debauched, and every brand of gorgeous. ”I love the way you say yes.” 

He shimmied down Scott’s frame, sweat making his shirt cling to his back and shoulders as he found his place between the werewolf’s knees. He pulled back his pants, peeling him out of snug cotton, and Stiles couldn’t stop the way his eyes widened and his throat went dry. His tongue caught between his lips, and Scott just smelled so good. The grin that spread across his cheeks was wicked. “Heeey Scotty…”

He pressed his face into the junction of Scott’s legs, inhaling deeply. His nose traced the curve of Scott’s shaft as he licked his way to his heavy sack, tracing the thin line of skin between his balls and entrance. Heat pooled across his back, driving him forward mercilessly, and thinking of Scott sprayed all over his face could have made him come on the spot.

He took Scott in with the barest of warnings, groaning because he was so turned on it hurt. Stiles tried to fit as much as he could, pushing in inch after inch until shivers racked his nerves in reflex. He sucked so hard his cheeks hollowed out, fingers working eagerly across the rest of Scott, slick with spit that dripped past his stretched lips. He lost himself in the feel, the weight of him against his tongue. His smell and taste and texture, and Stiles could count on one hand the people he’d done this too, but he’d never, ever wanted something in his mouth this badly

___

It was the anticipation that was killing him. Just the thought of what Stiles was about to do that made his body clench low. Not just anyone, Stiles. His Stiles. He dragged his tongue across his bottom lip, staring blearily up at the ceiling. He lifted his hips to help slip the fabric down, shivering at the cool hit of air against his skin. Everything was on fire, sweat beaded down his spine and his entire body was flushed.

“Uugh, shut up.” His laughing turning into a moan, hips jerking without his control.  Eyes rolled back and he knew he was rambling some sort of incoherent praise or maybe he was begging, Scott couldn’t even tell. The mouth that could smile so sweetly turned filthy and pleading.  He wanted to watch, wanted to see Stiles’s mouth stretch around his cock but he wasn’t sure he would last if it did.

Even expecting it, he choked at the sudden heat, slick and wet and maddeningly perfect. It stole his ability to breathe, to think. It took every ounce of control he had not to thrust upwards, to force himself deeper and just let Stiles set the pace. “Fuck!” He cried out again, loudly and broken as the suction pulled through him, the muscles of his abdomen tensing. His hand fisted roughly into Stiles’s hair, guiding him down and holding on at the same time. He wanted everything, to hold Stiles face down against the bed and fuck him hard enough to make him scream, to ride him and feel the human come deep inside of him, to hear the obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh and to mark his skin with a thousand bruising kisses so everyone would know that this one belonged to him. Mostly, he just wanted this to be good for Stiles, so used to pleasing it was odd to be the one touched instead.

Finally getting the strength, he propped himself up on his elbow to watch, shuddering at the feel of Stiles’s tongue across the head of his cock. It was sinful, easily the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Scott swallowed hard, feeling his climax building and knowing he couldn’t hold back.

___

Stiles couldn’t get enough of this, and he wasn’t going to stop trying. Scott ran furnace hot beneath his fingers, and he wanted to bury himself in his partner’s skin. The stuttered thrusts of Scott’s hips buried him deeper, impaling him with his thick cock, and Stiles reveled in it, even as it left his jaw aching with effort. He fisted himself frantically, losing himself in Scott’s voice and taste and smell. He licked up the curve of his cock, from the base to the tip, painting with eager desperation rather than polished skill.

It was okay. He could learn. He wanted to learn. He wanted this again, and again, and again. He wanted to memorize the werewolf’s body with his fingers and mouth. He wanted to find the places that made Scott scream, and the ones that made him sigh. When Scott screamed like that, selfless and obscene, feral like he’d been torn apart, but hopeless like a babe - Stiles wanted to be the only one who could make him.

He felt the shift of tension through Scott’s skin, committing each ragged gasp and breathless exhale to memory. He dragged his eyes across his partner’s belly, pupils blown wide as he feasted upon the sight of Scott’s body.

The best part of all this, he realized, with a mouth full of dick and fingers in his hair. was knowing how Scott looked when he came.

Stiles gagged on Scott’s seed, but his orgasm left him too sated to care,

___

He came screaming that died away into a muffled sob, the feeling crashing through him with an intensity that hurt. Scott was blinded, everything white and staticy, nerves burned raw. He knew he must have pulled too hard on Stiles’s hair, sorry to have hurt him and to have come without warning, but he couldn’t quite pull his thoughts together enough to form the words of his apology.

Scott collapsed back against the bed, sheets damp with sweat and panted heavily. Exhaustion crept through his limbs, a bliss that made him smile as he stroked lazily through Stiles’s hair. He was completely spent, happy and caught up in the awe of it. None of it made any sense if he thought about it too hard. He’d gone from hell to an impossible hope in a matter of days, life changing so fast he wasn’t sure how to cope. The only thing he could do was cling to the one constant that always helped him through. “Fucking hell, Stiles.”

He was laughing, breathy and tired as he gathered his strength so sit up. Scott lifted his friend’s head and kissed him. His tongued darted out to the corner of Stiles’s mouth, licking his own cum from bruised and swollen lips. “Are you okay? Was it okay? Did you even…?”

How could he put so many years’ worth of overwhelming feelings and gratitude into words? How could he ever show Stiles how much this, all of this, meant to him? “Dude, next time I get to blow _you_.”

___

"Duuude, gave me a bald spot," Stiles whined, eyes half-lidded and grinning like a nut. His head was throbbing, but the sensation was distant. Everything felt distant when he was floating on air, from the raw tingles that covered his lips to the numbness in his calves. Somehow, he managed to pull himself against Scott, losing his shirt and shucking his pants low on his hips along the way. Damped boxers bunched uncomfortably, but so utterly boneless, he was evidently too fucked to care.

Then Scott was pulling him into a kiss, and Stiles could only croon into his mouth. He tucked his face into Scott’s arm, pressing a sloppy kiss to the swell of his bicep as he draped himself all around the werewolf. Skin stuck to skin, impossibly warm, until Stiles didn’t know anything else except how perfect Scott felt. “For the record, this isn’t what I had in mind when I came over. Mostly - wanted to give you candy. Make sure you d’in’t hate me…” 

He kissed across Scott’s shoulders, trying to reach as far as he could without actually moving. His fingers dragged across the werewolf’s thigh, all the way up to his belly where his fingers fanned out. “Was it good for you? I don’t… You can say no. You can always say no. Even while you’re blowing me, but I’d prob’ly cry, man. But I mean it, really.” 

___

"I’m sorry." He might have been smiling, the Scott was no less sincere, hands tracing his apology through Stiles’s hair. He wrap his body around the human, the scent of sweat and sex and _them_ heavy in the air and it was perfect. He lost himself for a moment, kissing Stiles lazily and slowly. Without the urgency, it was nice to just take the time and explore the feel of him, the pressing his mouth to his friend’s damp hairline with a sigh. “It’s not my fault, if you have a buzzcut, I wouldn’t have been able to do that. I like the hair though, a lot. It gives me a place to grip.”

Scott gave another short, breathless chuckle, arms tightening around him. “You can still give me candy if you want to, just let me have a minute or two…or ten. I don’t think I can get up right now. I wasn’t really expecting this either, you know. I didn’t think I’d see you again, I wasn’t sure you’d want to come back after the whole tazing me thing.” Finger tips ghosted over Stiles’s skin, tracing each perfect imperfection and smiling at the goosebumps he raised. He was naked, sweats tangled around his ankles as he squirmed to free his feet. Let whoever was behind the cameras watch, he didn’t care at all, the only thing that was important was making sure as much of himself was pressed against his human as possible.

"So good, so so good." He stole another gentle kiss from that mouth that had set him screaming. Scott hesitated, body tensing under Stiles’s hands. He knew…he’d only say that if he knew. This wasn’t the same, he wouldn’t even let that thought crowd its way into his mind. There was no hate, no manipulated feelings or violence. This was clean and simple, almost terrifyingly easy to offer Stiles everything. It was like they’d never been separated, he trusted his friend like they used to as children. "I don’t want to say no to you and I definitely don’t want to make you cry while I’m blowing you, dude. Unless it’s because of how good I am."

___

Scott’s hands were distracting. Scott’s everything was distracting. He was doing things and touching things in very, very distracting ways. Stiles was 87% sure his elbow wasn’t supposed to be sexy. It was an elbow. Except if Scott didn’t stop touching him, he might do something crazy like demand his hand in marriage.

Maybe Scott had already proposed.

But his words had Stiles gripping too tightly, pulling himself closer until he was flushed against Scott, until there were more points of contact that he could count and it was just so easy to fall into each other. 

"You’re the best, Scott," he mumbled, and it was too sincere. His mouth burned where the werewolf had claimed it, but that didn’t stop Stiles from pulling him into another kiss. It soothed his racing pulse. Werewolves could tell when people lied, but hey couldn’t read omissions explicitly. It was the worst sort of temptation.

He’d hurt Scott, and Scott deserved an explanation. “I’m sorry, I don’t trust you not to hurt other people.”

His fingers tangled in Scott’s hair, urging him to stay in place. He belonged here, tucked into Stiles’ arms and sharing his space. Stiles would beg him not to go.

___

They had always fit together so well. Scott could remember falling asleep on top of him after studying for finals and long nights leaning tight together as they battled on their gaming systems. They’d always been touching, unconscious little gestures of reassurance since they were kids. He could remember being teased about holding hands in elementary school, confused why the other kids thought it was so strange. Scott never cared and he didn’t care now, it made him whole and he wasn’t letting go.

"The best? Maybe not _the_ best. Pretty damn close though, you’re right about that.” He threaded his fingers with Stiles’s, pulling his hand up to kiss the human’s knuckles. “I guess if I had to admit it, you’re not that terrible either, bro. But then again, I’ve always liked you so there’s no accounting for taste.”

Scott’s smile faded, breath hitching at Stiles’s touch. He licked his lips before speaking, eyes sad. “I know. I don’t either. I wish I could but I know what I am and what I’ve done. I’m trying, but I’m not safe. He didn’t want safe.” Tension crept back into the wolf’s body and it took a conscious effort not to pull away. “Don’t let me hurt you. Please, I don’t ever want to be something that makes you hurt.”

He wouldn’t be able to bear it. He was so sure he could keep himself controlled around Stiles, there was an instinct to protect him, a possessive and loving need. It would be so nice to trust that it would always be that way, but sometimes it was hard to predict his own actions, especially when they were affected by the moon. “Stiles…what happened to Peter? Did you arrest him? Is he dead? Did you find the others, are they okay?”

___

White, hot anger blind-sided him, strangling from behind and stealing his breath away. It was harsher than anything either of them deserved, not when they were tangled so closely that Stiles couldn’t tell where he ended and Scott began. He rolled Scott unto his back, his knees locking around the werewolf’s hips. He kissed him like he wanted to take him apart, licking him open with broad strokes and sharp nips.

He said with his lips what he couldn’t put into words. That’s not all you are. That’s not what you are. You’re a fighter and a survivor. You’re beautiful and strong. You’re more than what he forced you to do.

It had been over a decade, and he didn’t know anything about the man he loved, just that he used to be the boy he fell in love with. Stiles could still see traces of that boy. When Scott looked at him like that, he wanted to tear the world in two. 

"You won’t hurt me." He stated like it was a fact, like it was beyond possibility. But his features softened, impossibly fond of the handsome man beneath him. He brushed a wayward strand of hair out of Scott’s, trying to guarantee all his attention. His tone was gentle when he teased, "I’ll let you put your claws on my junk, dude. I trust you that much."

He drew out the next kiss, guiding Scott until he was pliant and sweet beneath his touches. If he did it right, there was a chance that the shadows under Scott’s eyes might leave.

"Has anyone from BHPD dropped by?" He asked in the same tone, but his fingers had settled into place at the base of Scott’s nape, massaging in a way he once reserved solely for economics homework.

___

He didn’t want to fight, he couldn’t. He had never been able to say no to Stiles and it looked like some things hadn’t changed over the years. Scott let himself be distracted from his questions, surrendering beneath the human’s touch and moaning softly into Stiles’s mouth. His hands slid up the thighs that straddled him, catching those teasing lips between his teeth and heart rate spiking in response to the sudden rage in the air.

Stiles had such faith in him, it was frightening. They used to carry each other like this, shouldering the weight when one of them stumbled, but that was a lifetime ago. Scott wasn’t sure he could be that person again but he would try if it meant making Stiles smile. Anything would be worth making him happy.

“I don’t want to put my claws on your junk, Stiles.” He said patiently, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards and mischievous light sparking in his eyes. “I don’t think you should trust me quite that much, dude. Plus, I can think of a lot of other things I’d like to do with your junk that would feel a whole lot better than claws…or fangs, I’ll make sure I’m careful about that. I’d like to keep you all in one piece for as long as possible.”

Scott shook his head, unsure. He had stopped paying attention to his visitors, refusing to speak with any of them until they gave up and left him alone. God…those skilled fingers were suddenly so much more interesting than his worries and he was so tempted to just let it go… The wolf sighed, putting a reluctant hand on his friend’s chest and pushing back.  “Tell me. I have to know what happened to him.”

___

Stiles’ features crumbled when he was pushed back. He understood that they were trying to have a question and that these matters couldn’t wait, especially if no one had been able to talk to Scott in three days. There were time-sensitive issues they had to tackle, and the faster they could build a case against Hale, the better. It was unnerving to think that even with the bust, there was a chance, no matter how slim that the monster would walk. Stiles wouldn’t think about that now.

"For future reference, I hate talking shop when you’re naked and talking about my junk," Stiles grumbled, but he propped himself up on the pillow. It was easier to pull Scott closer then, urging the werewolf to rest his head against his chest. He wanted that to be a joke. His throat constricted.

Thinking back to the investigation’s status around the time he’d officially requested a leave of absence, he wished he could put more distance between Scott and - everything. “We found two other shapeshifters on the premises. One blond, about six-feet tall, he’s - it’s been difficult. He hasn’t spoken a word. The other one’s a redhead. She’s at Beacon Hills Hospital’s specialized ward… She hasn’t woken up a yet. Blood test shows she’s a sort of lynx. Do you know them?”

He didn’t stop rubbing down Scott’s nape though. Once he started, Stiles was convinced it helped him more than the werewolf. He had to force out the words that followed. “Hale’s in custody. He’s… We’ve been postponing him letting out bail.”

I didn’t shoot him in the leg when I had the chance.

___

“You might have to get used to it, I could be doing it a lot.” He stretched purposely, tired muscles pulling beneath dark skin before settling against Stiles. One finger traced aimless patterns across the human’s chest, willing himself to relax. He was safe here, nothing was going to ruin that.

“Yeah…Isaac. I’m so glad he’s okay.” Relief flooded into his voice and he nuzzled into his friend’s body. They used to be housed together until Peter had realized they’d bonded and found some kind of comfort in each other. It was more than just the natural instinct of wolves to seek out their own, they’d become friends to help keep each other from giving up. They were stronger together which meant they had to be pulled apart. “He’s newer, but he wasn’t going to last. I’ve seen it before, there were others that didn’t make it. Isaac didn’t like to kill, he didn’t have it in him.” Not like Scott did. He let that fact remain unspoken.

“I haven’t seen him in weeks, I didn’t know if he was still alive.” Scott had done his best to protect him but there was only so much he could do to fight back. “Maybe I can help with him, he trusts me. The girl…I’ve seen her, but I don’t know her well. She was his favorite, I felt sorry for her.”

Scott jerked his head up, staring wide eyed at Stiles. “Bail? He could get bail!?” Fear slid ice cold down his spine and the wolf shuddered. If Peter was able to get free, it was only a matter of time until the man tracked him down. He was rich and powerful, he took what he wanted and could twist the truth until anyone believed him. Someone like that would never end up behind bars, Scott would never be rid of him. “He’ll talk his way out of it, you can’t trust him, Stiles! He can convince you to do anything, he gets in your head somehow and you can’t get him out. Promise me that you’ll stay away from him.”

___

That - the fear in Scott’s eyes, the lilt in his voice.  _Master_ , he’d said, and Stiles’ head swam because it was wrong, all of it was wrong. It reinforced the wall of hatred and anger and fierce protectiveness around his heart, where Scott stayed, where he’d stayed for years. His arms snaked around the werewolf’s middle, pulling him closer without permission because for one bitter moment, he was sure Scott would try to leave him. Stiles couldn’t allow that, and shit, they were already in so deep.

"He’s not getting out. He’s not going anywhere near you, or me, or the others," he insisted, and there was no logical way for Stiles to keep his promises, but he’d fight to the death for the chance to.

Isaac, it was good to have a name for the face. _He wasn’t going to last._

Scott lasted. The things Scott must have done to survive lingered just out of Stiles’ concentration, forced there by loyalty to cherished memories and greed, but coaxed closer every time he tried to approach the case from an objective perspective. If he tried, he could piece together specifics. Stiles didn’t want to. Right now, he didn’t think he could handle it.

He kissed Scott slowly. Stiles needed to. His palm rested over the werewolf’s chest, hiding the source of his pulse. Its rhythm kept him grounded, even as heat spread up his neck, and his fingers ached to curl around Hale’s throat. He could dig out his eyes, break through his bone. The academy had taught him the limits to human strength, but Stiles was creative. Scott was always his best motivator.

"He’s gone." He whispered, trying to soothe his best friend’s nerves with his hands and lips. "Focus on you… And Isaac. I’ll see if we can work something out there."

___

After a long tense moment, Scott settled back down against the other man, trusting in the physical contact if not the words. Stiles didn’t understand how dangerous Peter could be, no one did until it was too late. It was part of the draw, that slick charm and uncanny ability to read a person that made him dangerous. He had a sharp liars tongue and the skills to wield it expertly. He could get you to agree with him before you even realized you’d been played and the thought of him coming anywhere near his fierce, beautiful friend made Scott’s chest tighten until it felt like he couldn’t breathe. Peter would love the challenge of breaking Stiles down if he ever got the chance and the wolf knew he’d try.

Stiles could promise they’d be safe and maybe even believe it, but he’d had too much experience with Peter to hope. Hope was the enemy, it made you careless and gave someone a vulnerability to exploit. Suspicion was a way of life, you always had to prepare for the worst. Scott didn’t voice a word of it, let his human think he believed. It was better than the truth and he hated knowing that this was causing his friend pain. Scott would find a way to keep them safe. He’d killed for Peter, he’d do the same for Stiles if he had to and so much more willingly.

The things the human could do with his mouth were unfair and Scott could feel his reluctant body relax, eyes closing and rubbing his cheek against his friend’s collar bone. Peter would never be gone, but Scott was okay with pretending for now, anything to keep Stiles from worrying. “You know” He murmured, trying to distract from the lingering rage. “This is going to make for one hell of a session with the doc next time I see her. I wonder if I can get a copy of the tapes.”

___

Scott relaxed against him slowly, almost begrudgingly, and Stiles had to fight against the urge to hold on tighter. Scott wasn’t convinced. Stiles knew that he couldn’t demand his belief. It wasn’t fair, and after everything, it was cruel. Yet Scott trusted him. Scott had always trusted him. Stiles wished he could give him news of Hale’s death.

He let the segue slide, not that he had any other choice, but his fingers clenched in Scott’s hair, dragging dull nails across his scalp. He hoped Scott never moved. 

When he groaned, it was a drawn-out, dramatic affair, craning his neck so he could nose at Scott’s ear. “I’m not ready for my Hollywood debut. Oh shit, dude, she saw my butt.”

Stiles let himself linger on that, lost himself in dragging his fingers down Scott’s shoulders. That was less traumatizing than it probably should have been, in the face of smooth, tanned skin. There was the whole minor issue of banging in a hospital, but as long as they didn’t kick him out, he wasn’t going to complain.

He hummed low in his throat, wanting to soothe Scott, like he could rewind the last three minutes of conversation. “Hey… There was a group session tonight I was s’pose to try an’ get you to go to tonight.”

___

A shiver raced through him at the scrape of fingers through his hair, inhaling sharply. An almost inaudible growl escaped parted lips, the faintest rumbling in his chest. _Uuugh, don’t stop._

“Maybe she didn’t see your butt yet? I’m not sure who’s watching, it could be anyone really. And _I_ didn’t even get to really see your butt yet, that’s kind of unfair.” Scott gave a lazy, crooked grin, wiggling his hips shamelessly. “Plus, they can still see mine, what’s the big deal? There’s a whole lot worse in the world than some asses. If we gave someone a thrill, then good for them.” He couldn’t care, too pleased with sex and good friends and the way Stiles smelled like him and how the pieces of his heart had suddenly fit together again to worry about anything else.

“A group session? You want me to sit around with a bunch of strange wolves and god knows what else and talk about my feelings?” Scott made a face, curling his body and burying his nose into Stiles’s ribs. “That sounds like kind of the worst thing ever. Plus, it would require pants and I’m feeling like pants are pretty optional right now.”

He leaned up, cupping the side of his friend’s face and kissed along the jawline. “Can’t we just stay here and eat junk food and fuck and sleep and pretend that it can stay this way forever? I just want this as long as I can keep it.” It was only a matter of time before it ended, Scott knew there’s be no way to keep the weight of the world from crashing in eventually. Stiles had a life that Scott didn’t fit into and Scott had…well, nothing. Just the prospect of learning how to rejoin a world he barely understood anymore and a lifetime of watching his back and fighting against what he was. That was if he could change at all. They were thoughts he could hold back for now, push it all off for as long as possible and hold on to this brief moment of peace.

___

"Oh my God I love your mouth," Stiles said, all the words coming out in one long exhale, and he looked positively delighted. He pressed a smile into his best friend’s lips. It was easy to hide how sad it was. He could lose himself in the taste of Scott’s tongue. His fingers ghosted up his werewolf’s throat to trace the places he’d savored just moments ago, stroking over dips and curves of warm skin before returning to their spot in Scott’s hair.

It was amazing, and startling, how easily they could fall back into their old feedback loop. Scott liked something, so Stiles loved it. Stiles was happy, so Scott was thrilled. 

"And I love your butt," he added defensively, between kisses, pinching at their topic of discussion with teasing fingers. If he wasn’t too busy trying to hide his mouth against Scott, there’d be more appreciation for how impish his grin had turned. As it was, Stiles just really wanted Scott’s face against his face. "It’s my butt. No one else gets to see the butt. If we don’t wear pants, then everyone can agree to that - especially the ‘my butt’ part."

That butt had distracted him in a big way, ever since Coach Finstock tried to get Scott to do more than five push ups without having an asthma attack. Stiles never got to five. 

Sleep and sex and junk food and _Scott_ , and if they were beamed aboard the Death Star, all his fantasies would be complete. They could pretend. They deserved to pretend. He just had to ask, “Are they bothering you here?”

He pressed his forehead against Scott’s, like an apology for drawing this out. He promised, “I’m so on-board dude with Pringles for dinner and your ass for dessert, but… Are they hurting you?” 

___

He felt almost like he didn’t deserve to be so happy. There was nothing in his life that he’d done that could ever come close. He felt human again, _human_ , safe and grounded securely. It was nothing short of a miracle. However many years it had been since they’d seen each other last, Stiles had only changed for the better. He had crushed on the boy, secret and awkward and not understanding all the feelings that crowded into his chest whenever Stiles smiled, but he could love the man. Almost a stranger after so long and yet familiar in every way that mattered. They had just met and had known each other forever.

A bolt of lightning. Coup de foudre. The boy with the Batman lunchbox all over again, immediate and unexplained.

“Hey!” Scott squirmed, laughing into Stiles’s mouth and trailing kisses down against his neck. “I get to see the butt. I want everything, I don’t get if we have an audience or not. That’s their problem, I’ve waited long enough and I’m not willing to waste any more time. Let them watch if they want to, maybe they’ll learn a few things.”

The wolf hesitated, closing his eyes and resting against the human. “They bother me, but they haven’t threatened me. They haven’t hurt me, they haven’t even sedated me in a while. It’s safe enough, I guess, I just don’t want to be here.” Not that there was anywhere else to be. “I just don’t know what they hope to accomplish, I don’t think they can help me.” Scott didn’t have a lot of faith in sitting around and talking about his life until he somehow stopped being a monster and could just walk out of here a regular human being again. And if he did, how was he supposed to stay safe without running?

He made a low unhappy whine, sitting up and groping for his missing sweat pants, pulling them back up over his slim hips. “Don’t worry about me, Stiles. I’m okay, I promise I am. No one is hurting me, I’m fine.”

___

"Hey, we agreed no pants," Stiles protested, but without any heat. His features pinched like he’d eaten a bad burrito, struggling not to gripe about Scott’s distance. But if Scott wanted to stop, he’d stop. He just really, really hated the idea of Scott being cross with him. Some things never changed.

There was so much about Scott that had. He thought about that careless scoff, the easily confidence with what he wanted. The Scott he remembered was always a whisper away from a dare. This felt strangely indifferent. Stiles didn’t want to think about that when he could link his arms around Scott’s waist and pull him close until his back was flushed against Stiles’ front.

"I don’t want you here, either," He murmured into Scott’s hair, burying his face in soft strands. He spread his legs so they could bracket Scott, his hands settling on his best friend’s belly, knuckles dragging across the tufts of dark hair that guided lower.

He wanted Scott in his apartment. He wanted to show him his new game console, and his roof, and his jeep. He wanted to fuck Scott into his sheets, and buy him breakfast in the morning. That was a different story entirely. ”But I think they mean well… I think they want you to - not freak out the next time you see someone.”

___

“I thought I better not distract you so much.” Scott teased, leaning back against his friend with a sigh of satisfaction. “You can always take them off again if you want.” He was never going to be able to give this up, he could tell it right now. The contact was addicting, perfect, Scott never wanted it to stop. How was he supposed to let go, even for a moment when Stiles didn’t seem to want it either.

He arched his back, reaching his arms up over his head to grip Stiles’s shoulders. He didn’t ask where he would go if he wasn’t here, Scott refused to let the questions in. The future was uncertain and so out of his control, it has been a long time since he’d anything to lose. “We’ll figure it out, we always do. I’m not afraid.”

Scott rested his head back against the human, scowling at the implication. “I don’t freak out when I see people. I just…I don’t like being surprised by other wolves and weres. I don’t trust them, they could be dangerous, especially in this place.” He didn’t like anyone thinking he was out of control, even if it was the truth. If his friend wanted him to do this, he’d somehow find a way to make it happen. There was no way he’d let Stiles down, not when his happiness made the wolf’s insides flutter like a teenager.

They were supposed to pretend that the outside world wasn’t real, but Scott felt like he owed some kind of explanation. “I used to fight sometimes, they just make me nervous.” Okay, that was a _lame_ explanation.  “I’ll try harder, I’ll be better. No more picking fights with the orderlies, deal?”

___

_They just make me nervous._

Woah, Stiles realized, with a distant, almost clinical fascination. Peter Hale really was never going to let him stop hating him. It felt like the understatement of the century, and Scott sounded almost apologetic for it. Stiles froze where he was curled around his partner, distracted as he had been by placing kisses on every inch of tanned skin he could reach. He pressed his cheek against Scott’s biceps, huffing out warm air over the spot.

Anger tasted bitter in the back of his throat, but Scott tasted sweet, so sweet. If he licked his lips, he could remind himself of the way Scott’s tongue played against his. If he closed his eyes, he could hear Scott moaning all over again. It was perfect when it was just them.

Life wasn’t perfect, but they were pretending now.

"You can tell me… Anything. If you want to." Stiles didn’t think he’d ever had to make that offer. In the past, they just knew. They read each other like they’d been cut from the same cloth. They’d taken it for granted and ran fast and hard. Now, Stiles made sure his grip was gentle, and his mouth more so, as he kissed along the slope of Scott’s jaw. "The staff… They’re not supposed to threaten you. Most of ‘em used to be patients here. It’s one of those - education-slash-rehab-slash-job things… M’sure they can take a punch."

That was the wrong thing to say. He wanted to do something to lift the weight off Scott’s shoulders. “Tell y’ what, we can go around with water guns and…  _Identify_ any y’know, potentially surprising weres. For science.”

___

“I know, and I will. Just not now.” Scott didn’t want to ever tell Stiles the things he’d done, there was a line that once crossed, no one should ever be forgiven. He had fought back for as long as he could, but not all of it was terrible and those were the worst parts of all. There was only so long someone could fight before giving in to survive and only so long before they started to enjoy it. With someone like Peter Hale pulling the strings for years on end, there was no way to resist forever. Eventually, the lies started making sense and Stiles could never know how willing he’d been sometimes.

He twisted in Stiles’s arms to be able to hold him, nipping carefully at his human’s bruised mouth. “Is that what you want? Me in scrubs after all this is over? I might look too much like my mom.” Scott smiled at the thought. When he was younger, he thought he might want to follow in her footsteps someday, though this was a whole lot different than her brand of healing. “Lycanthropy rehab…I don’t know what they think they’re going to be able to do. It’s not like you can just stop being furry and the lunar cycle still sucks, dude.”

Scott snorted, unable to keep himself from laughing. “Definitely, if it’s for science and all, that seems like a great plan. Nothing will ever go wrong there. Sounds almost as good of an idea as that time we stole your Dad’s patrol car for a joyride. Or that time we snuck into that abandoned house and I fell and broke my arm. I couldn’t swim with my cast for the whole summer!  Or that time you told me you could eat three pounds of gummi worms and ended up puking in my shoes. God, Stiles…”

He grabbed his friend’s face, mooshing it between his hands and grinned with that familiar brilliant sunshine. Thinking about the future was overwhelming, but it finally struck Scott that he actually had a future to look forward to. Whatever was going to happen to him, he had something worth holding on to. “I want something, you need to promise me, dude. When I get out of here, I want to sit down and watch all those Star Wars movies you use to go on about. I told you I would and I never really did, so I have to make it up to you. Promise me that we will? I’ll sit through all of them and I won’t even make fun of you much.”

___

Stiles leaned forward, helpless to do anything other than give chase. Scott’s mouth felt so good against his, every sensation slick and warm, but when he smiled - when he  _smiled holy shit._ Every thought short-circuited, and Stiles missed him so much, missed him even as they were pressed together from head to toe, and face smushing should not be this endearing.

He smushed right back.

"Duuf’," he insisted, through puffed cheeks, only to lean forward and peck the tip of Scott’s jaw, twice. ‘Talk Star Wars to me, baby’ was the ultimate pick up line. "How’m I s’pose to know you love me if you don’t make fun of me?"

He dragged Scott back down, tangling their limbs together until Scott was trapped, and Stiles didn’t know why he’d ever apologize for that. What he wanted, he thought as he pressed a kiss to the side of his best friend’s mouth and dragged his hands up his sides, was to wake up with Scott tangled against him. He wanted to take Scott out to lunch and dinner and bowling and all those stupid dates they always went on before they knew to call them dates. He wanted to see Scott  living his life the way he wanted to, and taking back the years Peter Hale had stolen from him.

"I just wanna see you happy." Stiles murmured long and low. He nipped Scott’s nose because he could. "Wow that was crap-sappy, but if a bunch of guys in hospital gowns does the trick, then - yeah.  _Yeah._ ”

After a beat, he added, “For the record, those were my shoes. You were borrowing them, and I totally perfected the Bat Signal on your cast dude.”

One out of the three billion symbols on that cast had actually been perfect. Stiles reached for his bag for dinner, to seal the deal.

___

Scott laughed, letting himself be tangled up in perfection and completely content not to leave the warm mess they’d left of the bed. He threaded his fingers into Stiles’s hair, relaxed and happy as goosebumps raced along his skin. “I guess I’ll have to make fun of you all the time then, bro, I wouldn’t want you to start doubting me.”

He pressed his lips to Stiles’s ear, his cheek, his shoulder, everywhere he could reach. The wolf held his friend down and rubbed his cheek against Stiles’s collarbone, more than a little pleased at how his scent clung to cool skin. “I am happy, dude. Really happy. Super cheesy way too sappy romantic comedy happy, okay?” Scott teased, putting his hand over his heart and flailing overdramatically. “I’m about ready to slow motion chase you in an airport or something. And those were totally my shoes. I was wearing them, that made them mine. Those are the rules.”

He traced his fingers low across the other man’s stomach, fingers connecting all the little freckles that adorned his abdomen. It would be so easy to just let his hand slip lower, to get another taste. However Stiles had been in his imagination over the years, the real thing was so much better in every way.

Food was just about the only thing that could distract him from marking Stiles’s body with a thousand bruising kisses and he growled at the smell. “Dude I’m _starving_.” Scott grinned, stealing the bag with the eagerness of a kid with a present, rooting around inside. “Oh man…I haven’t even seen this stuff in…how many years? I don’t even know how long it’s been. A lot of them, right? Am I thirty yet? I really hope not, that seems really old.”

___

Stiles melted. There was no other word for it. Scott could scoop him off the ground with a spoon, and he seriously hoped there would be some major spooning later. The sensation of the werewolf’s touches lingered in his skin, seeping down to his bones, until Stiles was so relaxed he thought he could ooze through the mattress. He still laughed at the feather light touches across his belly.

It made it easier for Scott to steal his food. 

Stiles let out the war cry of strangled geese everywhere, making a grab for his bag with one arm still slung around his middle. “ _Dude,_ ticklish!” 

Which was probably exactly why Scott did it. Stiles tugged on his ear in retaliation, catching the soft lobe between his lips and licking along its outer shell until he forgot the point he was trying to make. Scott’s cheek felt amazing against his, almost better than the way their mouths slit together. When Stiles pulled away, his jaw hurt from smiling too much. It was a good hurt.

He clung to that. He had to, when Scott said things like that.

"Forget shitty airport security, I’m so sappy I’m giving you my skittles. Gotta keep your strength up. We’ve got years of birthday sex to make up for." He hand-fed Scott Pringles with exaggerated sexiness. That had to mean something. It took him a beat too long to swallow around a mouthful of sour cream-flavored Heaven. "You’re really hot for a 26 year old."

___

The wolf gave a victory whoop that was cut short and strangled at the feeling of Stiles against his ear. Scott bit his lip, trying not to make a sound. It would be way too easy to let himself get distracted again, thoughts drifting back to the feel of Stiles’s tongue and the sweet chaos it could cause on his nerves. If he didn’t rally his willpower, they’d never have a moment to breathe, the temptation of his body almost impossible to resist. Later, he had to focus or he might just let himself starve to death. Scott bumped his nose against his friend’s face, an unconsciously animal gesture.

“Skittles? Awww, Stiles. That’s like true love territory there, bro. Better be careful, I might not let you go if you keep bringing me processed sugar.” He snagged a Pringle, bliss written across his face. He’d forgotten about things like this, a million tiny normal parts of life that had been left behind. Scott caught his friend by the wrist, licking Stiles’s fingers clean and taking more time sucking each digit.

“Birthday sex? Christmas sex. Valentine’s day sex. Arbor day sex. Talk like a pirate day sex. I think we have a lot of things to make up for.” He tried not to think about all the things he’d missed, the milestones and experiences he’d never have a chance to reclaim. Did Stiles get to go to college? Did their lacrosse team ever make it to state? Had he ever fallen in love? How did he ever end up with the werewolf cops or whatever they were called?

Scott hesitated, counting back the years. “Twenty six…I’m twenty six. I almost thought I’d be older.” Four years on the run, seven years since he’d been anything but a pet on a leash. _Seven years?!_ And he hadn’t seen Stiles in over a decade? “You don’t happen to have a mirror in the magic bag of snacks, do you?”

___

Stiles groaned openly, but his hips canted without his say-so. It was a halfhearted motion, a reminder of how easy it would be to fall all the way. He cupped Scott’s cheek before he could pull away, leaning forward so he could brush his nose against the strong slope of his bridge. “It was true love territory before I busted out the processed goods, dude.”

He had to clear his throat, though his grip got more insistent, arms tangling tighter around Scott’s broad muscles. (Scrawny was the wrong word; he was like the opposite of scrawny, but lean, so lean, and Stiles could still remember how soft his best friend used to be when he fell asleep on top of Scott while trying to pay attention to homework - more Pringles then). He traced the lines of Scott’s face with his finger tips, revisiting features that had caught his heart all those years ago, and reveling in how the years had made him so handsome.

Scott was beautiful when he smiled, Stiles thought, not for the first time (not for the first hundredth time). His thumb smoothed away the hint of crow’s feet by the corner of his eye. 

"No can do, dude. Too much of a health risk, never mind your paws and claws. They should have that - Plexiglas stuff? I don’t know, but you look - good, man." He licked his lips, remembering how to speak. It was a joke, but not  really. "You look better when you’re cumming." 

___

He gave a quiet smile, holding on to that thought. Stiles loved him, really loved him and had loved him this whole time. Eleven years felt like nothing up against something like that and Scott closed his eyes, forgetting everything else just to relax his body against the human’s. It shouldn’t be this easy to pick up where they had left off, but everything about them had always been easy. It just fit, there wasn’t a way to explain it and picking at the threads never did anyone any good.

Scott sat still as Stiles traced down his face, a little confused but still smiling. “Is it that different? And they really think I’m going to hurt myself on some broken glass? How is that supposed to be a health risk? Dude, I can heal just about anything and I really wanted to hurt myself…” He flicked his wrist, claws springing razor sharp from the tips of his fingers. “There really wouldn’t be anything they could do to stop me.” He gave his hand a shake, shifting it back to human.

The wolf stared at his friend, deadpanned and blank at the comment before closing the distance with a rush and capturing Stiles’s mouth with his own. There was an awkward flail of limbs as he tried to untangle himself, wound tight around the human and making this a whole lot less graceful than he was hoping. So much for impressing anyone, he was just aiming for not accidentally elbowing either of them in the face at this point. He slid his body between the other man’s legs, pressing him down into the bed. “You really have a way with compliments.” Scott panted, looking extremely pleased with himself.

___

"Dude, I’ve had enough of people hurting my best friend to last me two lifetimes," Stiles griped, curling into the other werewolf’s side as if to escape his claws. He might have been exaggerating about wanting those on his junk. He might have been really, really exaggerating. Stiles was not the Prince Albert kind of guy, and anything with those claws would probably be a step above it. 

For a moment, he thought he’d said  the wrong thing, treating Scott’s silences warily, as he always had. It wasn’t as if they were incapable of being quiet. The odds of it happening when they were together were just phenomenally low.

Then Scott _pounced_ , and Stiles was laugh-screaming, and there was a 50% chance that the elbow he got to his ribs was his elbow. “Werewolves!” He gasped. “Such majestic creatures!”

He made the mistake of looking down then, Scott looked wicked between his legs, watching with intent and more than a few promises. Stiles forgot how to close his mouth. “Maybe I need - second opinion. No. No - more evidence. Yeah. What are you gonna do down there…?” 

___

"Majestic? Dude, I’ve got the majesty of a bald eagle perched on the head of a freaking lion." He teased with a growl, dragging his fingertips down Stiles’s stomach and curling lightly through his trail. "You nervous? I can hear your heart jumping. I have more control than that, trust me." Scott nuzzled into his human’s thigh and breathed, _him_ and and sweat and cum from their last go around. He wanted to know every inch, to see if he could find that awkward flailing boy under new muscle and strength. The one whose ADD kept him scattered with a million distracting brilliant ideas and long nervous fingers that Scott had watched tap along the surface of his desk. “You’re kind of a sucky cop if you can’t figure it out, Officer Stilinski”

"I love you." Scott muttered, pressing his lips to Stiles’s hip bone. "I feel like I should tell you that every second to make up for missing all my opportunities before, even when I had you. What does a dumb teenager know anyways? I used to play out these big long speeches in my mind apologizing to you and telling you how I felt, but it was a lot fancier in my imagination and I can’t remember all the words. So, all I’ve got to say is I love you. A lot. And I’d totally like to touch your junk all the time if you’re okay with it." He made a face and sighed. "Yeah, that really did sound a whole lot more romantic in my head."

___

"I love you, Scott. I love you I love you I love you ohfuckyou’regonna kill me. I’m gonna die with a raging heart boner because you’re gonna put your  _mouth_ on my j-junk.” Stiles rushed out, unable to control the way his voice trembled. Even with the squeak his higher controls should have vetoed, he sounded almost angry because how dare he?  _How dare he?_ Come back with that smile and those eyes and that laugh and everything Stiles had dreamed about since he stopped wanting to be an astronaut (third grade). He remembered concocting story after story on how to woe the most popular girl at Beacon Hills High, each plan more and more ludicrous just to see Scott tip his head back and laugh like no one was watching. How dare he come back hurt but brave, so brave, and not expect Stiles to fall apart all around him.

How dare he expect Stiles not to keep him forever now.

He couldn’t take his eyes off that mouth. The moue of a stressed ‘you.’ The curve of a wicked smile. The way his tongue would peak out, pink and sweet, and Stiles wanted to chase it.

Scott hadn’t even touched him.

He inhaled sharply, doing an awful puffer fish impression. This wasn’t his first time in this position, but it felt like he was going to blast off in 0.6 seconds next to a pack of barely touched Pringles. Scott would probably eat all of those. Stiles really should have cared more.

"You sure about this?" He whispered, and his hands had found their way to Scott’s hair, stroking through tousled locks. They hadn’t even cleaned up. There was cum all over his stomach. Scott could Scott could - Stiles closed his eyes. "You want this right Scott? You’re gonna - we’re gonna?"

___

He laughed, nuzzling against Stiles’s thigh, fingers dancing around the human’s hipbones to dip just below the edge of his boxers. “You wreck me like it’s nothing, you smug asshole, and now you get flustered? I’m sure about this, Stiles, I’m so fucking sure about it. I’ve only thought about this about a million times.” This was the boy, he was right below the surface still nervous and still flailing. Scott was almost in awe, adoration clear in warm brown eyes as he watched Stiles stutter and fuss with no small amount of pride. He did this. Stiles wanted _him_. Scott could barely keep still with his happiness buzzing through his nerves, chiding himself and forcing himself to focus.

The wolf carefully rubbed his hand against his human’s groin, teasing him hard through the thin fabric. This he knew, back on familiar ground and for once, eager to use his hard won skills to watch Stiles writhe and know he was responsible for every breathless moan and desperate twitch. He didn’t know if it was some kind of possessive wolf thing or his own entirely human heart, but he needed to leave his mark. Scott pulled down the band of Stiles’s boxers, kissing the cut of his hip and sucking hard enough to bruise, licking the rapidly reddening welt. No one would see, but Scott would know it was there and he growled, overwhelmed at how his body immediately responded to the thought. Apologetic fingers soothed the pain away.

Scott slowly pulled the boxers down, leaving them tangled around Stiles’s ankles so he couldn’t escape. Eyes flicked upwards and he licked his lips, making a show of it and enjoying the reaction. “I didn’t get a chance to appreciate you before. Damn it dude, you’re _perfect_.” He licked a broad stripe beneath his friend’s cock from base to tip, circling his tongue almost lazily around the head. Scott sighed, breath hot against the slick skin as he licked and kissed, making sure his touch was frustratingly gentle.

___

Stiles had an answer to that. Stiles had multiple answers to that, from ‘You’re perfect to me,too,’ to ‘Dude, did you miss the part where I slobbered all over Scott Junior and got so turned on by it, you didn’t have to do anything,’ and ‘I’m gonna joke about naming your dick.’ 

What came out was a sharp gasp, as Stiles tensed all at once. Blunt human teeth promised to leave bruises, and his legs spasmed, trapped under Scott’s weight. He pulled hard at his werewolf’s hair, silken locks sliding between his fingers, and he wanted to apologize. He should have apologized, but Scott’s mouth was so  _wet._  The first brush of contact had Stiles tossing his head back and moaning like he was paid to.

But he needed to see this. He needed all of this. Scott’s lips were made for sucking, petal soft and utterly obscene on his cock.

He didn’t realize he’d called Scott’s name, a breathy, frustrated thing that was supposed to be a warning. He canted his hips, helplessly impatient, and Scott could hold him down if he wanted to. Scott do anything, take _anything_. Stiles was so hard he ached.

___

Scott shuddered at the hand in his hair, memories flooding back unbidden and the shame of enjoying it. He shoved the memories down, focusing on the feeling of it _now_ , reminding himself that it was Stiles and he was safe and he could love this without fear. And that he wanted it, especially when Stiles said name like it was a lifeline.

He ran his tongue low across the perineum , careful and slow as he kissed and sucked each inch of skin. He traced along the sack, back up the shaft and paused, looking up at Stiles and locking eyes. Scott wanted to watch his face and know he was the one who made his friend fall apart.

Warm hands braced carefully on the human’s thighs as his tongue flicked out to catch the beads of pre-cum, swallowing them with a smile. He wanted to tease and draw this out, to set Stiles moaning but with the human splayed out for him, it was so difficult to hold back. With a wicked grin, he sank down on Stiles’s cock and swallowed around him. Years of practice had made this easy, relaxing his muscles until he could deep throat the entire length, bopping his head until he had to come up for air, gasping. He didn’t give Stiles a moment to recover, taking him back into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks to suck. 

___

There was gibberish more coherent than Stiles at that point. Dark splotches of color spread across his cheeks while sweat pimpled across his brow. He stared like a man transfixed, mouth agape with memories of how well Scott fit there, too. His eyes struggled to stay open, but he couldn’t look away, never wanted to look away, when Scott watched him like that. When Scott performed for him, just him, Stiles wanted to surrender.

Scott took him in, taking in inch after inch after inch. Then he kept going. Stiles’ entire body shuddered, broken whines tearing out of his throat, unbridled and desperate. Scott had his dick in his mouth and his heart in his hand. It was a twisted, crippled thing, capable of loving only three people with any consistency, two of them he shared blood with, and one of them was dead, but it was Scott’s, it had always been Scott’s, whether he wanted it or not, and it always would be. His dick was absolutely fine.

The wet, slick feel of suction made him groan, arching off the bed and trying to push in deeper. His thighs trembled around Scott, each wave of pleasure rippling all the way down his leg until his toes curled with it. 

Stiles was never quiet, probably incapable of it, but well from his mouth was a litany of praises and curses, thanking the deities for making Scott and the devil for teaching him. He swore Scott’s name and moaned his praises, and somewhere in that mess he tried to warn him, tried to tell him that he couldn’t hold on, and it was all his fault all his fault Scott _please-_

___

Scott had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Was that a terrible thought? Should he feel guilty at how much he loved seeing his best friend desperate and pleading? There were a thousand memories to choose from, each one an important piece of who they were and the life they had shared but this… god, _this_.  It was a beginning, something new and unexplored in territory Scott had thought he knew so well. This was a part of Stiles he had never seen before, something that they hadn’t shared when they’d shared almost everything and it thrilled him. He turned his attention back on Stiles, knowing that if he thought too hard about the feeling he might actually break down and cry.

He groaned around Stiles’s  cock, his own hips pressed hard and stuttering against the mattress. He put all of his skill in worshiping his friend’s body, throat tight around him and face buried in the curl of dark hair as he let his friend thrust into his mouth. Scott’s hands slid upwards across the human’s abdomen, reading the tightening muscles beneath his fingers as he lifted his head to give Stiles another long, drawn out suck.

His swollen mouth was ready, eager when Stiles came though surprised the human was capable of such intensity so soon after their last time. Scott swallowed, enjoying the slightly bitter taste and sitting up with a laugh. He ran his thumb across his mouth, catching the slick liquid and sucking it clean.

With a sigh of satisfaction and almost reverence at this human, this man who could wipe away a decade of hurt just by gasping his name, Scott curled beside him. His hand slipped beneath the hospital issued sweats, slowly jacking himself with a lazily indolence.

___

For a moment, Stiles didn’t know where he was.

He groaned, long and base and utterly wrecked. Ecstasy clawed at his senses, pulling him down until he was drowning in it, and all he could do was beg. Scott sucked him through his orgasm, pulling each wave of pleasure through him with a slick smile and sinful tongue. Stiles perverted his name with a groan, twisting the word into something filth and beautiful, just like the person who owned it.

Scott was perfect. Scott was his.

He was still trembling when he turned to face his best friend partner love of his life, with half-lidded eyes and clumsy hands. He pulled Scott closer, slotting their mouths together until he could suck on his werewolf’s lips. and Stiles gasped when he tasted himself. Scott  _swallowed._ That was almost enough to make him cum again.

His fingers walked down Scott’s side, pushing down the garter of his sweats before he covered his palm with his own. Wordlessly, he urged him into a rhythm, pumping Scott in tandem with their lazy kisses. 

"Cum on me," he begged, his voice like gravel like he’d spent the last hour screaming. Their noses brushed, and Stiles shared the plea with his tongue and teeth. "Want you - all over me."

___

The air left his lungs in a rush, gasping into Stiles’s mouth with soft whimpers and half-formed pleas. He returned each kiss slowly, smiling and relaxed as he let the human set the pace, hips rolling with each thrust. His gaze never left Stiles’s face, caught in the amber of his eyes and held captive. The lust fueled confidence faltered under those eyes, suddenly aware of how intimidate this all had become and how quickly he’d strip himself bare. He was exposed, vulnerable and trusting, willing to do anything just to see Stiles look at him like he was worth something. That everything he’d been through that changed and warped him didn’t matter.

He gave a short laugh, nodding eagerly though unable to speak. Another mark, one that weres could read in the way their scents had joined. _This one is mine, he is my heart and everything good that I never deserved. My name is written in his skin and I’m his._

Scott wriggled his sweats down, easy to slip them off and enjoy the freedom of being nude again. He was shameless about it, he didn’t care who watched as long as he could press the line of his body against Stiles’s and feel the way he moved without any barriers between them. He easily pulled the human tightly against him, shifting to straddle him and rut slowly against the cut of his hip. Scott twined his fingers with the human’s hand, wrapping them both back around his cock and groaned. His breathing caught, the only warning he gave before he dropped his head and came across Stiles’s stomach with sigh.

___

Stiles could lay here forever, and he wouldn’t care, as long as this feeling never went away. He sank into his pillows, wriggling to Scott’s body drawn tight against his, a blanket of heat that pinned him down in the best sort of way, keeping him grounded.

Scott, he whispered into kiss-bruised lips, licking them like he could offer relief. He hid a smile against his best friend’s mouth, following his rhythm, learning his body, one arm slung over his shoulders, the other wrapped around his cock. He wanted to make Scott feel good. He wanted to make Scott feel like they were the only ones in the world.

Then Scott was tensing and trembling, and all Stiles could do was hold on. He pressed a hundred yeses into his lover’s skin, kissing him everywhere he could reach as warm cum streaked across his fingers and stomach. He smeared it across his chest, fascinated, before licking his fingers clean. When he looked up, Scott was watching. Stiles’ entire world stuttered to a halt.

"Uh…" His goldfish impression was back with a vengeance, but he painted Scott’s lips with his spunk before kissing it off.

Holy shit.

"Holy shit." He grumbled, words tangling on his tongue, and everything just felt so goddamn heavy. "I better get - royalties or sumtin’ on this sex tape."

___

Scott licked his lips in a haze, eyes flickering as he watched Stiles’s tongue slide along his fingers and he was kissed dizzy. The world was spinning and he rested his head against his friend’s chest, laughing like he was a kid and the years could just fall away into nothing. His entire body shook, edged with exhaustion and a slight euphoric hysteria.

“I really think we made someone’s night, dude. Fuck…I’m gonna want a copy of that for myself. You know, for research purposes.” With a huff of reluctance, he gave up his perch with Stiles’s body snug and amazing between his knees to curl beside him. He was spent, completely boneless and struggling to string his thoughts together. It was all too much at once, from rage and mistrust to everything he always dreamed of and never thought possible, from fear to absolute safety. It overwhelmed him and he wasn’t sure in the moment if all this was real.

He buried his face into Stiles’s side, trying to hold off the sob that was stuck in his chest. Too much…too much… “Stiles?” The voice was shaky, and Scott closed his eyes, just holding on.  He was just so tired, the last few days finally catching up to him now that his walls were down. “Stay with me. Please stay with me. I don’t want to lose you again.”

___

"As long as it’s for science!" 

Scott laughed, and everything in Stiles’ world was that much brighter. He wrapped his arms tight around his best friend’s shoulders, giggling like he did the first time Scott said ‘boob.’ He tried to bury his face in Scott’s hair, and when his werewolf pulled away, they just found new ways to tangle themselves together. They were nasty and sticky and probably going to be ten times grosser in the morning, but Stiles felt like he’d climbed a mountain, and everything… Fit.

"Tell me," he insisted, breathless and pleased. He ran a hand down Scott’s back, sweat still cooling on velvet skin, and they were ridiculous. Stiles wouldn’t have it any other way. "What your absolute - favorite thing is, dude. That thing you love, I wanna do it to you. For you. Whatever."

He wanted to do it, and then surpass it. They’d find a way to make it better. They’d reinvent it. They’d probably make a shit ton of doggy-style jokes in the process, but they’d do it together.

Something in Scott’s posture shifted long before he could talk, and Stiles stilled, reacting like it was his nerves that gave the order. Scott sounded tired. Scott sounded like he never wanted to move again.

Wordlessly he tugged his werewolf closer, until they were sharing the hospital’s lumpy pillows and he could kiss the downward curve of his best friend’s mouth. His. Scott was his, and he was Scott’s, and it was the Scott’n’Stiles show, never cancelled just rescheduled. He’d loved Scott so much it left him winded.

"I love you," he whispered, and Scott’s eyes were damp, like they used to get when he had hay fever, like they used to get when someone brought up his father. Except that gaze was so much older, and there were shadows under it that made Stiles angry. "I’d rather die then leave you."

That wasn’t hyperbole. That was an oath.

___

_I don’t deserve you. You have no idea what I’ve done._

Breathe. It was okay, stop freaking out. He let his body relax, trusting Stiles as he always had. Whatever terrible idea that was almost guaranteed to land them both in trouble or weeks of detention or risk broken bones, he trusted. No matter how it turned out, at least they’d go down together. Scott nodded, smile hinting along the edges of his mouth. He was too tired to worry, to blissed to let the fear overwhelm him.

They had promised to pretend this could last and nothing else would come crashing down. He could pretend.

“What I like?” He asked hoarsely, forcing a laugh and tracing a sticky hand across Stiles’s chest. “A shower to start with. I don’t know, no one has ever asked me that before. Everything? Is everything an option, cuz I think I’d like to do everything. Maybe not all at once, I think even I might pull a muscle that way. What I like….I’d like the _time_ to do everything.”

Scott couldn’t keep his eyes open, wrapping Stiles’s promise tight around him like a shield. “Love you…” he murmured, believing it. It wasn’t pretend anymore, this was real. This was a chance to have a life with all the pieces back together again. This was the boy who chased him, the one who never gave up. He owed nothing less. “Don’t die, just stay. There’s too many things we have to do first. After all the sex, you have to buy me dinner, dude, a real one.” He felt himself drifting, trying to hold onto consciousness and failing. “I want to go home, Stiles.”

___

Everything. Because Scott was capable of sappy, tooth-decay-inducing moments of sentimental value? Or because he hadn’t been allowed anything.

Something caught in his throat, and Stiles chased it down with another kissing, sighing openly and eagerly into his best friend’s mouth. They’d be disgusting by morning and completely regret not doing something about it now, but all Stiles wanted to think about was how good Scott felt against his skin, how sweet he tasted, and how well they fit together. 

"Everything’s good," he said, when he should have been making wise-cracks about being raised by wolves and as many sex innuendos as he could fit in a sentence.  _Fit._ Except Scott he was more excited than he could ever imagine about letting Scott drool all over him. “We can do everything.”

His hands were probably nasty. He still ran his fingers through Scott’s hair, and tucked him into his grasp. In the quiet of their room, in a too small bed with too much history between them, Stiles promised, “I’m going to take you everywhere.”

He slept better than he had in a long time.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP that has been fic-i-fied!
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on [tumblr](http://tmautog.tumblr.com/tagged/writing) and keep up with this story [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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